


a dash of romance with my coffee, please

by iwadimples



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Strangers to Lovers, They blush a lot, but this is mainly just tooth rotting fluff, coffee shop AU, hand holding, ice skating dates, just pure fluff, lots of cheesiness, matsuhana shenanigans, rated t for a small suggestive comment, shy boys, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28009749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwadimples/pseuds/iwadimples
Summary: Ever since discovering the quaint little place known as Seijoh Cafe, Oikawa has come back every day. Unlike most, however, his visits weren’t entirely for the menu, he didn’t even like coffee, but rather it was for the cute barista with a bright, welcoming smile and beautiful green eyes.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, minor matsuhana - Relationship
Comments: 10
Kudos: 114





	a dash of romance with my coffee, please

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is kind of a rewrite of my first iwaoi fic from before I was even an iwaoist. I think it’s my second haikyuu fic over all, too. You can find it on my page but uh I wouldn’t recommend that.  
> I also tried to do an Oikawa narrative, but for some reason I kept trying to slip back into Iwaizumi, so rip that was a struggle and I think that’s part of the reason why this turned out so long. It was only supposed to be 6k max, but uh, obviously it’s a little longer than that lmao. Mattsun and Makki are also in this way more than they’re supposed to be?? Have some free matsuhana crumbs I suppose but also they deserved!  
> Anyways, this was just for some fun, fluffy shy boys bc we need more soft iwaoi. I hope you enjoy!

The merry jingle of a familiar silver bell greeted Oikawa as he stepped into his favorite cafe for his daily coffee run. It was funny, because Oikawa used to hate coffee, but as he stepped through the clear glass door, he took in a deep breath, welcoming the smell of fresh coffee beans and delectable sweets that wafted towards him. A small smile played at his lips as he moved further into the warm establishment, ears red from the cold bite of winter. His smile grew as he approached the counter, where his favorite barista turned from chatting with his tall, curly-haired coworker.

“Iwachan!” He greeted Iwaizumi Hajime, the sole reason Oikawa came to Seijoh Cafe every day, brightly with a little wave.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi greeted back, small smile on his own face that his coworker not so subtly snickered at. “What can I get for you today?”

Oikawa hummed in thought, quickly scanning the menu. Iwaizumi waited patiently, having become accustomed to this little routine. 

It was two months ago that Oikawa first started visiting Seijoh Cafe. He happened to be exploring the city around his new university campus when he caught the scent of fresh baked milk bread. He followed its trail, finding himself upon the modest but popular cafe.

It was a nice, aesthetically pleasing hang out for university students much like himself. The walls were a solid lighter teal, though most of the cafe was framed in tall, clear windows to allow for plenty of natural light and an open atmosphere. Modern, decorative lights hung from a tall ceiling, illuminating the surface of shiny tile floors with a clean, marble pattern, as well as the spotlessly clean tables, consistently wiped down throughout the day. Spread throughout the cafe were a variety of rectangular tables near the walls and circular tables in the center, surrounded by chairs that were equally stylish as they were comfortable. There were also low booths wrapped around sections of the perimeter, as well as single cushioned stools people could sit and converse in. Throughout the cafe was a mix of art from students of the nearby universities, as well as plenty of potted plants, either standing between tables or hanging from the ceiling. 

The visuals weren’t the cafe’s only appeal. It had a reputation for amazing drinks and addicting, delicious sweets, to which Oikawa could personally attest to. And then, of course, the devilishly handsome staff, who were both attractive _and_ charming. Like Iwaizumi. Oikawa had fallen on sight when he walked in that first time. The cafe had been relatively empty, or at least, there wasn’t any line and only one customer had been at the counter. Oikawa had stood back and watched, transfixed by the boy with a rugged attractiveness, from his comically spiky hair that he somehow pulled off, to his sharp, handsome features, softened by a welcoming smile on his face that didn’t seem entirely fake. When Oikawa approached the counter, because he really did want to try some of that delicious smelling milk bread, he took in the outlines of a muscled body, unable to hide under the cafe uniform, which consisted of a white button up tucked into black pants and a teal apron just a touch lighter than the walls. To Oikawa’s delight, Iwaizumi had his sleeves rolled up, showing off impressive arms. And when Iwaizumi asked what he could get for him that first time, Oikawa felt himself swoon. The other’s voice was a soothing deep timbre, the kind that was the sound of comfort and reliance and stability. 

A quick sweep of the menu had told Oikawa that milk bread was actually the day’s special, another thing for him to delight in. His nose was telling him that the treat would not let him down, that even though he already loved milk bread, he was going to really enjoy the kind from the cafe, and so he ordered ten. Surprise flickered in the emerald green of the barista’s eyes, and Oikawa prepared to haughtily defend himself, but then the boy, who Oikawa noticed by looking at the little gold name tag attached to his apron was named Iwaizumi, just smiled brighter and asked what kind he wanted. 

Oikawa blinked in surprise, because what did he mean what kind? Before he could ask the question, Iwaizumi was already explaining kindly that the cafe had the classic plain milk bread, but they also had some that were filled with cream, including vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. Oikawa excitedly requested six, two of each flavored, and four regular. He watched in fascination the carefulness with which Iwaizumi handled the treats as he packaged them for Oikawa, once again focusing on how good he looked all around, so much so that he didn’t even think about it when he agreed to wanting coffee when Iwaizumi asked him. He then panicked and ordered one of the first things he remembered seeing, a classic caramel frappe with extra whipped cream, the last bit added to hopefully cancel out the bitter coffee flavor he had now doomed himself to. 

Only, the coffee hadn’t been terrible. There was still that lingering bitter that he hated, yet the flavor mixed surprisingly well with the caramel, and even better with his milk bread. He was disappointed he hadn’t been able to stay after placing his order, courtesy of one Hanamaki Takahiro texting him in a state of emergency (that wasn’t even an emergency— his stupid best friend had gotten himself stuck in a mess of silly string, a disastrous result of one of his ridiculous pranks), and only discovered the astonishing deliciousness of the milk bread that could only rival his own mother’s, and his mother shouldn’t even have rivals in her baking, along with the surprising tolerableness of the coffee after no longer being face to face with the pretty barista, where he could’ve been able to sing him praise. 

Curious if the coffee was just a fluke or perhaps he didn’t hate the drink as much as he thought, Oikawa had returned the next day, trying something different but still made by Iwaizumi, and found that he didn’t hate that either, maybe even liked it. Several different varieties produced the same result, and Oikawa was beginning to think maybe he really had started to like coffee. Until one day when Iwaizumi wasn’t on his usual shift, and Oikawa could barely take the first sip of his first coffee made by hands that weren’t Iwaizumi’s without gagging. A second occurrence of this about a few days later, with him enjoying Iwaizumi’s drinks just fine in the days between, cemented the notion that Oikawa just hated coffee, unless it was made by Iwaizumi Hajime. And thus began his routine of visiting every day, and if Iwaizumi was absent, he would order his sweets without a drink. (There were smoothies and milkshakes too, but upon experimentation, _those_ weren’t as good when not made by Iwaizumi, too. This man was going to ruin Oikawa’s enjoyment of sweet beverages and he couldn’t even complain.)

“What, no greeting for Matsukawa?” Iwaizumi’s coworker teased, feigning hurt.

“Hello, Mattsun!” Oikawa chirped brightly, because he liked Matsukawa Issei and he was always in high spirits when both of the baristas were at work together, at the same time Iwaizumi grumbled “Why doesn’t Matsukawa go clean table two that was just cleared?”

Matsukawa cackled, saluting and replying “Hey, Oikawa,” before grabbing the cleaning supplies from their place under the counter and heading over to do as told.

“Oh, by the way,” Iwaizumi said, bringing Oikawa’s attention back to him, “We have milk bread.”

Oikawa’s eyes sparkled, and he realized that indeed there was an underlying enticing scent of fresh milk bread in the air. “I’ll take four, please!” 

Iwaizumi huffed a laugh, and it was the most beautiful sound Oikawa had ever heard, even more than the satisfying _crack_ of a powerful serve in volleyball or the whistle of victory. “You’re not even going to ask what kind we have this time?”

”Iwachan made them, didn’t he?” Iwaizumi nodded.

“Then I have no worries that I’ll love them, whatever they are!” Oikawa proclaimed brightly, waving a breezy hand.

A pretty blush turned the tips of Iwaizumi’s ears red and dusted across his cheeks. Oikawa marveled at the sight, enamored by the rouge tint that made Iwaizumi’s usually attractive features just look endearingly cute. He kind of really wanted to kiss him. And ask him on a date. Make him his boyfriend, but these were all things that he had been thinking since the moment he first saw him, but he had yet been able to work up the courage to ask for any of these things.

Iwaizumi coughed into his hand to hide his embarrassment, asking sheepishly, “Anything to drink?”

“Matcha honey hot chocolate, please.” 

Iwaizumi nodded, ringing Oikawa up and giving the price. Oikawa gleefully paid the given yen, relishing in the moment their hands brushed together for the briefest second in the transaction. The red in Iwaizumi’s face turned brighter, and Matsukawa, the meddling shit, coughed, and it sounded suspiciously like “whipped”. Iwaizumi glared, flicking one of the ten yen coins at him while putting away the rest. Matsukawa caught the coin before it smacked him in the face, grinning impishly as he tossed it back. Iwaizumi effortlessly caught it with one hand without looking, putting it in the cash register in a fluid motion too. 

It was something so small, but Oikawa still had to stop himself from swooning by the casual display of motor skill. This was one of the reasons he loved when Iwaizumi worked with Matsukawa, because the two working together always meant some fun and banter.

“So how’s volleyball going?” Iwaizumi asked as he turned to prepare Oikawa’s order, as if he hadn’t just attempted to casually injure his best friend. 

Oikawa let out a happy gasp, because he actually had something to report. “I’m going to be on starting lineup!”

It was heartwarming to Oikawa, the way Iwaizumi’s face lit up and genuine excitement took over. “Really?! That’s amazing, Oikawa! You’ve definitely earned that!” Over the course of the past few weeks, Iwaizumi learned of Oikawa’s love for volleyball, how hard he worked for it, how passionate he was, and he was genuinely proud to hear Oikawa‘s dedication was paying off. Starting lineup, as a first year! 

In his excitement to turn and congratulate Oikawa, Iwaizumi nearly ran straight into Matsukawa, who had returned to behind the counter. “Careful Iwaizumi, your gay is showing.”

Iwaizumi glowered at Matsukawa and threatened violence while Oikawa laughed. He felt extremely warm and bubbly, unable to explain how much it meant that Iwaizumi was so happy for him, because this really did mean a lot to Oikawa. He was too busy laughing with mirth to notice the way Iwaizumi stopped his threats on Matsukawa’s life to stare in awe at the beautiful sound coming from Oikawa, so bright and cheerful and making Iwaizumi’s heart flutter.

Unfortunately by the time he finished and he was able to open his eyes to see (because his laugh was the kind that creased his eyes into happy little crescents), Matsukawa had lightly smacked Iwaizumi back into finishing Oikawa’s order, and once again he was faced with the barista’s back. Not that he was complaining; Iwaizumi’s backside wasn’t hidden by an apron, and so all of his back muscle was revealed to Oikawa through his button up. He was also getting to see Iwaizumi create his drink with a practiced ease, Oikawa didn’t even have to tell him that he wanted his drink medium, or with extra whipped cream, or an added dash of creamer. Besides the flavor, which Oikawa changed daily, Iwaizumi had Oikawa’s order down to a tee. It made him feel special, to have Iwaizumi know his order so perfectly.

Oikawa made excited grabby hands when Iwaizumi held out the finished product: a pleasing, thick swirl of whipped cream, sprinkled with matcha on top of an aesthetically mint green concoction. He took it enthusiastically as Iwaizumi handed it over, amusement (and endearment that the barista would firmly deny) on his face, taking an excitedly big sip. Only, it was still piping hot, and Oikawa was made painfully aware of this as he yelped and quickly swallowed.

Iwaizumi huffed a laugh, though he apologetically tried to hide it. “Dumbass, how many times do I have to tell you to wait?”

Oikawa pouted, reaching out for the package of milk bread that had been waiting on the counter. “Rude, Iwachan! You can’t call me mean nicknames after I’ve burned my poor palette!” He wasn’t actually upset, though. It had taken him weeks to convince Iwaizumi to drop the “-San” honorific after the barista realized Oikawa was going to be a regular, because he was adorably polite like that, and the nicknames to Oikawa, even the ones that were vulgar variations of his own name, felt like he was on at least some level of friendship with Iwaizumi, which was incredibly significant, especially when he wanted to possibly be more.

“I can if they’re accurately describing you,” Iwaizumi teased.

Oikawa pointed a finger at him. “Mean! Maybe I should file a customer complaint against you!” And then he finally took a bite (rather aggressively) of his milk bread, classic style, and _moaned_ . “Iwachan! It is absolutely illegal for your milk bread to be this good!”

Iwaizumi, whose face had turned a bright red for reasons unknown to Oikawa but could be assumed was just his bashfulness to compliments, stumbled over his words, prior teasing entirely forgotten. “W-well— I— Um, Th-thanks?” 

“Smooth,” Matsukawa commented unhelpfully. His face was far too amused as he drank from his smoothie he had made earlier.

Iwaizumi sent him a withering glare, but the effect was lost on his still burning face. “ _Anyways_ .” Iwaizumi coughed again, trying in vain to calm his the redness in his complexion. Oikawa found it absolutely adorable. “Your coffee should be cooled by now.”

“Ah right!” Oikawa gobbled down the rest of his current piece of milk bread, still making obscene noises because of how heavenly it tasted. Iwaizumi had to look away, accepting that his face wasn’t going to return to its natural tan anytime soon. 

Oikawa let out a satisfied sigh after taking a long, savoring sip of his hot chocolate. The sweetness of the honey mixed perfectly with the vegetal and slightly better sweetness of the matcha, and of course, was the delectable chocolate and whipped cream piled high to add to the sweetness. He beamed at Iwaizumi, throwing up a peace sign. “Perfect, as always, Iwachan!”

Iwaizumi had to resist the urge to blurt “like you”, instead offering a genuine and pleased smile back, eyes scrunching up cutely. “I’m glad you like it.”

This time it was Oikawa’s turn to stare in awe. Iwaizumi was so beautiful, a rose tinge still high on his cheeks, face stretched and scrunched in a brilliant display of joy. He wanted to kiss him. Oikawa really _really_ wanted lean over the stupid counter separating him from Iwaizumi and just kiss him. First, a true, deep kiss that lasted for a few seconds so that he could memorize the feel and taste of Iwaizumi’s lips on his. And then he wanted to pepper the man in sweet little kisses until the other was bursting into giddy laughter. Yeah, that sounded really nice. 

Iwaizumi was having similar thoughts, mesmerized by the way Oikawa seemed to fit in so perfectly in the aesthetic and light of the cafe, the warm chocolate and smooth cream color palette of his skin, features, and hair the perfect contrast to that of the cafe’s teal. Actually, Oikawa was the type of gorgeous who fit in anywhere, making his environment a million times more tranquil and beautiful, his smile bright and precious enough to rival the sun. Iwaizumi wanted to see him always smiling, always happy. He also really wanted to hold his hand, maybe kiss that pretty pink mouth of his that could be just as infuriating as it was endearing.

They slipped into a lapse of silence, both lost in their own cheesy and wishful thoughts. One particular thought hovered in their minds, the same idea that they both had been considering for some time now; they really wanted to ask the other out on a date.

All they needed was a little courage.

Matsukawa, who had to bear witness to the long, painful weeks of pining, simply stood and watched, finding it absolutely hilarious that the two whipped idiots were so lost in their own thoughts that Iwaizumi didn’t even yell at him for the deliberately obnoxious sucking he was doing with his smooth. Or to notice that they were equally stupidly crushing on each other. Of course, he could say something himself, but where was the fun in that?

In Oikawa’s head, the same line was running through his head: _ask him, ask him, ask him_ . It had been weeks now, and he believed that there was at least the teeny tiniest possibility that maybe Iwaizumi returned even a margin of interest that Oikawa held for him, and the worst he could do was say no. If that was the case, Iwaizumi at least seemed like the type who would let Oikawa down gently and keep things as they were if that was what made Oikawa comfortable, and if he was wrong about Iwaizumi’s character, he could just stop coming to protect his dignity. He didn’t need his daily dose of coffee, sweets, and a tall glass of handsome. He would survive, somehow. 

But Oikawa didn’t think he was wrong. At least not entirely. He really felt like there was a connection while he and Iwaizumi had these shared little moments in the cafe, could possibly have more if he had the courage to ask for a number or social media handle (because if Iwaizumi did have social media, none of his handles were any version of his name, and trust Oikawa, he had looked for days, with millions of different possibilities). And when Iwaizumi smiled at him, it seemed just a little more genuine than those he offers others. Call it hopeful delusion, but Oikawa prided himself in unbiased observation, his eyes simply catching the minute details like those in a volleyball game that allowed him to tear into his opponent’s defenses, and he liked to believe that this was no different.

And so, he decided, yes, today was finally going to be the day, because there was no better time than now. Oikawa was going to ask out Iwaizumi. He opened his mouth, started, “Hey, Iwa—“

So, Oika—“

They both cut off in surprise. Matsukawa was trying very hard not to burst out laughing, because even he could see the significance of this moment and didn’t want to ruin it. 

“Sorry—“

“Can I—“

They both looked away, cheeks flushing. Iwaizumi rubbed at his neck sheepishly while Oikawa fiddled with his fingers. Goofy, bashful little smiles played on their faces, and Matsukawa was torn between gushing over how cute they were, or gagging for the same reason.

“You go first,” Iwaizumi offered, staring very hard out the far window.

“A-are you sure? You can say whatever you needed!” Oikawa replied, voice sounding far too high in his head.

Iwaizumi nodded firmly. “Y-yeah, I’m sure. I, um, mine is probably stupid. Yeah, you go.”

“First of all, whatever Iwachan has to say isn’t stupid,” Oikawa huffed, easily recovering to affirm that. He said it with such absoluteness that it caused Iwaizumi to look back at him, and Oikawa’s surge of confidence faltered, pink rising and spreading to his ears. “Aha... um...” Iwaizumi didn’t say anything, rather looked expectant, so Oikawa supposed he indeed was going first. Which was fine. He had worked up the nerve and didn’t want to lose it. “Do... Do you... um... m-maybe want—“

Oikawa was cut off by a sudden notification sounding from his phone. Then several more. He groaned, recognizing it as the special one he set for Hanamaki and pulled his device out. He glared at his screen, which was filled with a series of urgent cries for help, but Oikawa’s Makki In Legitimate Danger radar was dead silent, which meant that his best friend was being a horribly timed little shit. And the bastard knew Oikawa, stupidly loyal Oikawa, would come running regardless of whatever he was in the middle of.

He offered an apologetic smile towards Iwaizumi. “Sorry Iwachan, I need to go help Makki.”

He saw the same disappointment currently in his heart flash in Iwaizumi’s eyes, and it filled him with a bit of optimism. “See you tomorrow, then?” Iwaizumi asked, dare Oikawa say hopefully.

Oikawa smiled assuringly as he collected his things. “Of course! Same time as always! Bye bye, Iwachan!” 

“Bye, Oikawa!” Iwaizumi called after him, and then Oikawa was out the door, the little bell tinkling behind him. As he disappeared around the corner, he took out another piece of his milk bread and shoved it into his mouth to munch on while he hurried to go assist his friend.

Iwaizumi sighed, slumping onto the counter. It was inexplicable, the disappointment he felt in that moment.

“You, my friend, are crushing bad,” Matsukawa drawled.

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi snapped weakly. 

Matsukawa ignored him, instead grabbing one of the topping cans. “Whipped. Just like this cream.” And then shook it for emphasis before putting the can back in its place.

Iwaizumi pulled a face at being compared to the weirdly wet, cold, and sweet topping. “I am not,” he argued, even as his deflated state proved otherwise.

“You’ve been ranting to me about ‘the pretty boy who comes in every day with a ridiculously cute penchant for milk bread’ practically every other hour since he first came here.”

“You don’t have proof.”

“You’ve literally made milk bread at least twice a week since Oikawa started coming, when before you barely made it once a month.”

“Maybe I really like making milk bread. And people have been wanting it more often, anyway.”

Matsukawa raised one of his impressively thick eyebrows and pointed to one of the chalkboards hanging near the end of the counter. “You’ve been adding something new daily just because Oikawa never orders the same thing twice, and then created a ‘house classics’ menu because we were running out of room on the main one.”

“So?” Iwaizumi looked away. “There’s nothing wrong with creating a menu with classics, it’s got a certain charm and appeal to it. More people order those drinks now because they have a special connotation to them.”

Matsukawa gave him a deadpan look. “It’s literally only comprised of drinks Oikawa has tried already.”

“What a crazy coincidence.”

“Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi huffed. “Irihata-San hasn’t said anything about it, I don’t see why you’re complaining.” 

Matsukawa snorted. “You manage this place so well that Irihata doesn’t even feel the need to come in half the time anymore. He probably hasn’t even noticed. Or if he has, trusts you so much that he doesn’t care.”

“Was that a compliment? Are you complimenting me? Matsukawa, are you feeling okay?”

“Oh you’re hilarious, Iwaizumi. Not like I’ve been constantly reminding you how great you are since high school or anything.”

Iwaizumi and Matsukawa looked at each other. Grins had already started spreading across their faces, but now they burst into laughter, the way only best friends who’ve known each other for so long and been through so much did, even when nothing was particularly funny. No one paid them any mind, the current patrons regulars and entirely used to their antics.

“Okay, maybe I am a little whipped,” Iwaizumi admitted once they began to calm down.

Matsukawa fixed him with a look. “A little?”

“... Maybe a lot. Shut up!”

Matsukawa cackled as Iwaizumi smacked his chest. When he calmed down, he looked at Iwaizumi earnestly. “No but seriously, you should definitely go for it. He seems really into you, too.”

Iwaizumi stopped his assault, a dumb smile he would deny slipping onto his face. “Really?” Matsukawa nodded, and his grin grew, hope blooming in his chest.

“But, you also totally missed your chance earlier,” Matsukawa said, because he could only be a sincere and supportive friend for so long.

Iwaizumi dropped his head against the counter again, groaning forlornly. “I know.” 

Matsukawa patted his back sympathetically. “Look at it this way, he was totally trying to ask you out, and if his friend hadn’t interrupted him he would’ve.“

Iwaizumi’s head shot up. “Really?”

“Iwaizumi, don’t tell me you’re that dense. How many confessions did you get in high school, oh great heartthrob of campus? How many have you gotten since university started? How many strangers stop us while we’re just trying to hang out because they see how hot you—“

“Okay I get it!” Iwaizumi was red once again as he looked away, Matsukawa’s point proven. “I just, didn’t want to hope.”

“For a smart person, you can be really stupid sometimes, you know?”

“Hey!”

Matsukawa snickered, moving the conversation along. “Anyways, at least you have tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah.” Iwaizumi’s eyes sparkled, and another bright, smitten smile lit up his face. Tomorrow was his chance. Tomorrow, he was definitely going to ask Oikawa out on a date.

* * *

“Hanamaki Takahiro your life better be in danger or I’ll make sure it is myself!” Oikawa shouted as soon as he opened the door of his and Hanamki’s apartment.

Hanamaki appeared from out of his room, covered in splatters of paint, rubbing at his neck sheepishly. “Well, um, if you don’t model for me so I can complete the still portrait I was supposed to work on the past week tonight, and I fail and my grade drops, it  could be in danger.”

Oikawa sent him a flat look as he removed his shoes and slipped on his slippers. “You saved a big project for the night before  _again_ ?”

Hanamki flashed a tentative grin. “Maybe?” 

Oikawa only became more unimpressed. “I was busy, you know.”

Hanamaki snorted, glancing at the time. “I know for a fact you were only at Seijoh to pine over your hot barista.”

“He’s not just hot! And I’ll have you know, I was actually in the middle of asking him out until you bombarded me with texts!” Never mind that it had been an embarrassing struggle, full of blushing and stuttering and he hadn’t even formed most of the question.

Hanamaki actually felt bad for that, he knew how long Oikawa had been trying to work up the courage for that. “Shit, you were?” He thought for a moment, then waved a hand. “Well since you’ve finally grown some balls, you can just ask him out again tomorrow! Now come on, please? I promise it won’t take too long!”

“Makki, I don’t think I can build up to courage to try again tomorrow!” Oikawa wailed, throwing his hands up exasperatedly, even as he made his way to follow Hanamaki to the other’s room. “I was so close, Makki, _so close_!”

“Then why didn’t you just ask him and then come help me?” Hanamaki questioned as they entered his mess of a room. There were art supplies littered everywhere; easels, canvases, sketchbooks, paint and paint brushes, pencils both lead and colored, chalk, pastels, anything one could think of, it was probably there, somewhere in Hanamaki’s room. He pointed to his window seat. “There, please.”

Oikawa obeyed, plopping down on the cushions. “Because you would’ve kept texting me until I came!” He accused. “How do you need me?”

Hanamaki grinned, a little too proud of the truth in that fact. “I would, wouldn’t have I?” When Oikawa sent him an unamused look, Hanamaki quickly began setting up his work station. “Think you can pull off pensive with a natural smile looking out the window? Pose doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe.” Oikawa adjusted himself around, folding long limbs here and there, until he finally found himself in his usual position: arms wrapped around his legs, which were tucked to his chest, chin resting upon his knees. He tried for the smile, but was only able to sigh wistfully, failed attempt of earlier still fresh on his mind, and his last milk bread and remaining latte sitting on Hanamaki’s desk in his peripheral weren’t helping.

Hanamaki taped down each side of his paper, leaving himself clean borders when he finished his project. He glanced up, noticing Oikawa’s forlorn expression and his face softened. His best friend really was interested in his barista, and he did sound nice, plus Oikawa knew how to read people and he wouldn’t go falling for someone not worthy of his time. “You know, you really should ask him out tomorrow. We both know you’re going back tomorrow, because you go everyday. This time, I’ll come with you, and I’ll make sure you ask. Provide some moral support and all that.”

“What if I still can’t, Makki?” Oikawa let out a miserable little sigh. “He’s just so... _perfect_ and... and...” he made a frustrated noise, throwing his arms up in a gesticulation to communicate what he couldn’t form the words to say.

“I’m going to die alone.” He groaned dramatically, face dropping back onto his knees, arms once again wrapping around his legs.

Hanamaki pulled a face. There went his model. He picked up a nearby eraser and threw it at Oikawa. “Hey! Now am I best friends with a quitter? I don’t think so. Whose favorite motto is it to ‘hit it ‘til it breaks’, huh?” 

Oikawa squawked indignantly at having something thrown at him, pouting at Hanamaki. 

Hanamaki just plowed on. “You’re perfect and all that,” he made to copy Oikawa’s earlier theatrics, “So don’t you dare be thinking you aren’t good enough for him. My senses tell me he’s going to be over the moon when you ask him out, and then you two are going to be gross and cute and all shy and affectionate on your following date. But before that,” Hanamaki fixed Oikawa with a knowing look, “We’re going to march you over to Seijoh, and I’m going to be there for you every step of the way. And you’re going to have that confidence, because you are _the_ Oikawa Tooru, and,” Hanamaki smiled, “I believe in you.”

Oikawa couldn’t stop his own smile that bloomed across his face at his friend’s encouraging words, looking away. He truly was so incredibly grateful to have Hanamaki as his best friend. And he was right, Oikawa _was_ someone worth dating, someone of worth in general, and he was going to ask Iwaizumi out tomorrow and they were going on a date! His smile softened at the possibilities, and without knowing it, he was pulling off the perfect pose for Hanamaki’s art. “Thanks, Makki,” he said. 

Hanamaki merely hummed in response, already lost in his oil pastels. When he glanced up for reference however, he beamed at the optimistic gleam in Oikawa’s eyes as his best friend stared hopefully up at the pink and yellow sky.

* * *

“Iwachan!” Oikawa lilted the moment he stepped into Seijoh Cafe, the little bell ringing with his voice. 

Iwaizumi’s head snapped up at the first syllable Oikawa spoke. Next to him, Matsukawa winced at the speed, getting whiplash just from seeing the action. Iwaizumi, oblivious to his best friend’s thoughts, beamed brightly at Oikawa, eyes disappearing into crescents. “Hey, Oikawa!”

Matsukawa, ever the dramatic one, shielded his eyes, crying, “My eyes! It’s too bright!” Iwaizumi glared at him, shooing him away. 

Oikawa laughed, bright and lovely. It caught Iwaizumi’s attention, how beautiful and light it was, enough so for him to return his attention to Oikawa and smile softly. Oikawa’s eyes were closed, scrunched in amusement and mirth. It filled him with delight to see Iwaizumi’s excitement at his arrival, and to see that radiant smile. He tugged on the beige scarf around his neck, hoping it could hide some of the blithely blush glowing high on his cheeks and the exuberant grin on his face. His heart felt like it was soaring, full of exhilaration and zeal. All of this was just more encouragement for what he planned to do today.

“What can I get for you today?” Iwaizumi asked, just like he always did, perhaps with a tad more enthusiasm himself. 

“The peppermint and white chocolate latte, please! And...” Oikawa squatted, peering into the displays of baked confections. His eyes landed on a fresh batch of melonpan, all dyed fun colors like peach and turquoise to match the cafe’s aesthetic. Iwaizumi, ever observant, informed him that they were chocolate filled. “I’ll take two of those!”

Iwaizumi nodded and rang Oikawa up, and just like every other day, they exchanged the money, fingers brushing lightly. They pulled away, blushes evident on both of their faces, even redder than any other day, because they both had a certain goal in mind, and it left them more excitable than on any other given day.

Oikawa hummed softly as Iwaizumi prepared his order. He took note of Matsukawa hovering, often leaning in to whisper comments he couldn’t hear, and being swatted away by Iwaizumi. Oikawa watched them curiously, bouncing on his feet. It made him wonder where Hanamaki was. His friend said he would be late, because Oikawa had a fixed schedule of arriving at a certain time every day and it was just before his class let out, but Oikawa didn’t know how late that would be.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Iwaizumi turned around with his finished order, and Oikawa eagerly took his cup with a satisfying mountain of whipped cream and pieces of crushed peppermint sprinkled on top, a red and white swirly straw sticking out to match the festive drink. He already had his mouth around said straw, but before he could take a hearty drink, Iwaizumi was saying with a warning tone, “ _Oikawa_.”

Oikawa paused, looking up sheepishly. He couldn’t help that he always forgot, Iwaizumi made his drinks too well, and Oikawa could never wait to try them. He lowered the drink back down on the counter, instead picking up one of the melonpan to eat. To absolutely no one’s surprise, it was heavenly sweet, though luckily for Iwaizumi’s well-being, not enough to evoke another sensual sound from Oikawa like the day before.

Oikawa threw up an approving peace sign. “Iwachan’s going to get me in trouble if he keeps making such delicious sweets. I’m supposed to be watching my diet for volleyball, you know!”

Iwaizumi raised his brows, amusement playing on his lips in a charmingly boyish way that had Oikawa’s heart skipping a few beats. “And yet you come here every day for some kind of baked good and coffee.”

“I get hot chocolate, sometimes!”

“Okay, some kind of baked good and an unhealthy drink.”

Oikawa pouted. “It’s not my fault Iwachan makes such addicting sweets and drinks! Maybe you shouldn’t be so good at your job.”

“I can’t tell if I’m supposed to be taking this as a compliment or complaint.” But either way, Iwaizumi’s grin as he bantered with Oikawa was too big and too giddy for it to matter.

Oikawa was in a much similar state, cheeks in pain from how much smiling he had already done. It should be a crime for someone to make him this happy and fill him with this many butterflies fluttering in his ribcage. “You can take it as both.” And then he swiped up his drink, taking a large sip. He let out a happy little “ah” as he pulled the straw away from his lips once he was done, oblivious to the way Iwaizumi tracked the movement. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect and delicious just like always, Iwachan.”

The compliments were nothing new, and yet every time they caught Iwaizumi off guard while simultaneously filling him with pride, and the happy little flush never failed to appear against his skin. He smiled in his cute and shy little way, averting his eyes. “Thanks.”

Iwaizumi was absolutely _adorable_ , Oikawa felt like his heart was going to explode and like he could die right there on the spot, overwhelmed with how much he wanted to dote all over Iwaizumi and smother him with love. That was it. He was going to do it. He didn’t need Hanamaki, he was going to ask Iwaizumi out right now, or else he _would_ die.

“Iwachan—“

“Oikawa—“

They both stopped, once again finding themselves with something they wanted to say to the other at the same time. By the coffee machine, Matsukawa snorted over his mixed berry smoothie.

“Um, you first,” Iwaizumi offered.

“Are you sure?” Oikawa laughed. “I tried going first yesterday, and you know how that went.”

Iwaizumi waved him off. “I doubt the chances of your friend interrupting you two days in a row are high. Go on.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Oikawa knew for sure this time that Hanamaki wouldn’t be needing him, though he wondered where the hell his friend was. “Okay.” He took a steadying breath, while Iwaizumi waited with baited. “Iwachan, will you—“

“Oikawa! Did you do the thing yet?!”

Matsukawa, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa all groaned at the interruption, all turning towards the door where Hanamaki had burst in, effectively catching the attention of the few students scattered around the cafe, which was saying a lot about his level of disturbance, considering the things Iwaizumi and Matsukawa could get up to without drawing their interest.

Oikawa glared at his strawberry-haired best friend. “No! I was in the middle of it when you stopped me _again_!”

Hanamaki paused in his tracks, taking in the scene before him, which really did look like a cheesy confession from one of his favorite kdramas. He smiled apologetically, walking up to the group. “Oops? Sorry, uh, go on!” He waved his hands encouragingly, standing to the side as to not be in the way.

Oikawa gave him an appraising look, a million questions in his head, then decided Hanamaki could wait and refocused onto Iwaizumi. Another deep inhale and exhale. “Iwachan—“

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Oikawa floundered, gaping at Iwaizumi. “Did you just steal my thunder?!”

Iwaizumi smiled, this time edged with a mischief that matched the sparkle in his eyes. “You were taking too long and I didn’t want you to be interrupted again.”

“But you interrupted me!”

“To speed up the process.”

“Jokes on you! Maybe I’ll make you wait an entire day from spite!”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Matsukawa called. “Iwaizumi’s not exactly an undesired product on the market. You never know what other pretty boy will come to visit him daily and spur him into baking sweets he usually never makes and pouring all of his sappy tender love and care into that one coffee for said pretty boy like the whipped bitch he is.”

“If we’re exposing them, then let’s also add that Oikawa doesn’t even like coffee,” Hanamaki added with an impish grin that matched too closely to Matsukawa’s. They were both leaning against the counter, looking far too gleeful and proud of themselves.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa both gaped are their friends, scandalized.

“Matsukawa!”

“Makki!”

“Wait a minute—“

“What does he mean you don’t like coffee?”

“What is Mattsun talking about?”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa, both incredibly embarrassed,

fell silent, sheepishly avoiding eye contact with rose tinted cheeks.

“You’re both so disgustingly gay oh my god.” Hanamaki exclaimed and turned to Matsukawa across from him. “Let’s show them how it’s done. Hey there, sexy, you wanna go on a date with me?”

Matsukawa grinned, lazy and amused. “I’d love to. What time and where?”

“You, me, tomorrow, 3 PM good?”

“Perfect.”

They both turned to Iwaizumi and Oikawa. “It’s that easy.”

Oikawa, bewildered by the sudden connection between his two friends, just gaped at them. “What the hell.”

Hanamaki turned to Matsukawa, sending him an appreciative smile. “You, I like you.” He turned back to Oikawa. “Why didn’t you tell me your ‘sexy barista’ had an even sexier friend?”

“You think I’m sexy?” Matsukawa asked in amusement.

Hanamki winked. “Never seen anyone dripping with as much sex appeal as you, babe.”

“We’re onto nicknames now, too?”

“Sure, why no—“

Oikawa, by now, had recovered and offended the other two had stolen the center of attention, waved his hands comically. “Hello! Wasn’t this about me and Iwachan?”

“It was,” Hanamaki agreed. “But then I met this guy. Why haven’t you introduced us before? We vibe together.”

Oikawa pulled a disgusted face. “You two getting along perfectly is  exactly why I didn’t want to introduce you.” He whirled, startling Iwaizumi. “Now, we can’t let them out-romance us, can we, Iwachan? So yes, I would absolutely  _love_ to go on a date with you! When will it be?” He fluttered his lashes, just for some added dramatic effect.

Poor Iwaizumi was still trying to catch up with all the sudden events that had occurred in the last five minutes and blinked several times. “Um... does Saturday work for you?”

Oikawa clapped his hands together in delight. “It’s perfect!”

* * *

Saturday came, both too soon and not fast enough. After exchanging numbers, a trade that made Oikawa elated to finally have done, they both decided on ice skating for their date. Oikawa had suggested it after Matsukawa unashamedly exposed Iwaizumi to be a bit of a hopeless romantic. In his head, Oikawa reasoned it would be cold, so they’d probably try to steal each other’s warmth, giving the perfect excuse to hold hands, and their breaths would mingle in the air between them, and who knew, maybe one of them would trip and send them both tumbling to the ice, and maybe they’d find themselves in a precarious situation, maybe they’d be close enough to kiss but wouldn’t just yet because they were too shy, but the proximity would be there, and they could laugh at the memory then and later, after they became boyfriends, and yeah, it was the perfect recipe for romance. 

Now Oikawa just had to get over the wave of nerves that had hit him, causing him to pace back and forth in front of the nearby ice skating rink, where he had arrived twenty minutes early. It was a bit much, even for someone as punctual as him, but he had been so restless and nervous that he had gotten ready early, paranoid he would lose track of time, then he couldn’t sit still waiting, so he had decided to head out long before he needed to. Not even Hanamaki or Matsukawa, who had become joint at the hip ever since their successful date a few days ago, could calm Oikawa with their jokes and jabs.

Luckily, or maybe unluckily, it was debatable with Oikawa’s nerves still going haywire, Iwaizumi seemed to be just as anxious as he, and showed up early, too, just five minutes after Oikawa. Oikawa’s face brightened as he took in Iwaizumi’s approaching form. This was the first time he would see Iwaizumi in an outfit that wasn’t the cafe uniform, and he wasn’t disappointed. Iwaizumi’s style was a comfortable casual that was still fashionable, the boy wearing a white hoodie under an oversized, buttoned cotton jacket with ripped skinny jeans. Tufts of his dark hair peaked out from his beanie, pulled down to protect his ears from the cold. 

Iwaizumi offered a small smile as he stopped in front of Oikawa, quickly taking him in, too. He already knew the other had a trendy fashion sense, and today was no different in showing that off. He wore a long, soft pink blazer over a light cream turtleneck sweater, tucked into black fitted pants. Delicate little chains of silver hung from his ears and twinkled in the light, along with the rings Iwaizumi noticed as Oikawa took his hands from their hiding place in his pockets and waved, a dazzling smile on his face. Oikawa’s love of jewelry was going to be the end for Iwaizumi, they made him look so  _nice_ .

“Am I late?” Iwaizumi asked in greeting, noting that Oikawa had been here for a while by the flush of his cheeks and weird stares he was getting from people, probably because he was just loitering around without seeming any reason to. Iwaizumi had noticed him pacing on arrival and couldn’t blame him, he had come to do the exact same thing.

Oikawa huffed a little laugh. They both knew they were way earlier than they needed to be. He turned towards the door now that he had Iwaizumi at his side and replied, “Actually, I think you’re just in time.”

Iwaizumi laughed too, and Oikawa once again took the time to appreciate it. It really was a beautiful laugh, a cute, husky little  _hah hah hah_ and made his face scrunch up in the adorable way it does when he’s truly amused. It made Oikawa giddy to have the joy of witnessing. “Iwachan, you have a really nice laugh,” he found himself blurting as they went to rent some skates.

Iwaizumi spluttered as he accepted the skates from the raven-haired teenager behind the counter. “Th-thanks,” he muttered shyly, averting his eyes and moving aside so Oikawa could collect his own skates.

“Thanks, Yuri-chan!” Oikawa lilted as he accepted his skates then moved to follow Iwaizumi. He was grinning broadly, adoring how flustered he had made the other. “You’re so cute, Iwachan.”

This sent Iwaizumi into another series of stuttering, his face somehow turning even redder. “W-where are all these comments coming from?!”

Oikawa threw up a peace sign with a gleeful smile. “I’ve been thinking them for the past two months, and now that we’re finally on a date, I’m going to make sure to shower you in compliments.” 

“I—“ Iwaizumi clamped his mouth shut, unsure how to respond, only knowing that he was incredibly flustered, Oikawa shouldn’t be allowed to be this smooth, and his ears were on fire now along with his face. 

Oikawa giggled. He looked down, noticing Iwaizumi was now fumbling with his laces. “Need some help?” he offered, already done with his own. Before Iwaizumi could respond, he was crouching down to take the long laces from Iwaizumi’s hands and expertly tying them for him. He looked up when he was done, eyes meeting with Iwaizumi’s. Iwaizumi was watching him, cheeks still tinged with a pleasant pink, and Oikawa, left under the undivided attention of the other’s pretty green eyes, felt his own face heat. He offered a lopsided grin and stood. “Are you ready, Iwachan?”

And just like that, the moment broke and the color instantly drained from Iwaizumi’s face. He nervously looked to the ice, several others already making leisurely circles around the perimeter. There were families and couples alike, along with a few solo stragglers. All of them moved with a polished ease, fluidly and easily, even the children who were a bit awkward but still gliding smoothly across the ice. Not at all like how Iwaizumi knew he would be once he stepped foot inside the barricaded area.

There was a reason Matsukawa had sent him a bewildered look when Iwaizumi so easily agreed to ice skating. Last time he had tried skating, it was with Matsukawa, just to try when they had nothing to do. And while Iwaizumi was athletic and knew how to control his body perfectly in every sport, it seemed the one exception was on thin pieces of metal attached to shows his feet on top of ice. He had landed flat on his ass, and remained there when he tried to stand up. And then he brought Matsukawa, who had gotten the hang of it perfectly, down with him when his best friend tried to help him. When they attempted again a few times after and only the same result had occurred each time, they both agreed ice skating was not for Iwaizumi.

So why had Iwaizumi agreed the instant Oikawa suggested their date be skating? Maybe it was the sparkle of excitement in his eyes when he suggested it, or maybe it was because, to put it in Matsukawa’s words, Iwaizumi was one whipped bitch and probably would have agreed to anything Oikawa could’ve said.

Except now he was starting to regret that eagerness, and he hadn’t even approached the ice yet. He could already feel the ache of his poor tailbone, likely to be bruised for days. That, and his ego, because he was about to embarrass the hell out of himself in front of Oikawa, the prettiest boy he had ever seen and fallen for like he had no other. Yeah, he was really stupid for agreeing to this. 

Meanwhile, Oikawa was observing him with concern, wondering why he had suddenly gone very quiet and very pale. “Iwachan, what’s wrong?” Oikawa asked, snapping Iwaizumi from his thoughts.

Iwaizumi, knowing he had to fess up, sighed and looked away, arm coming up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. He started strong, then mumbled off, “I.... I actually don’t know how to skate.”

Oikawa blinked, then again several times as he pieced together what Iwaizumi had said, the last of his words muttered in an embarrassed rush. When it clicked together, he let out a bright “oh!”. “That’s okay, Iwachan, I’ll teach you!” Now he _really_ had an excuse to hold Iwaizumi’s hand, and he certainly wasn’t going to complain about that.

“That could be harder than you think,” Iwaizumi warned. “Like, I’m  _really_ bad. You may end up on the ice more than actually skating.”

Oikawa immediately waved him off easily. “It’s not about the actual skating, it’s about spending time together, right? And if I end up with a bunch of bruises, Iwachan can kiss them all better!” He smiled, watching in amusement as Iwaizumi’s cheeks darkened again. And instead of teasing and embarrassing him more like he could, he held out a hand, offering a little reassuring smile. “Although, I’m confident that Iwachan will be able to skate by the time we’re done, but I won’t argue if Iwachan still wants to kiss me, anyway.”

How could Iwaizumi argue with that? Plus, Oikawa was holding his hand out to him, which meant they would get to hold hands, and there was no way he could pass that up. So Iwaizumi took Oikawa’s hand, earning a brilliant smile that he enjoyed for only a moment before he was being pulled inside the barricaded ice.

Iwaizumi panicked, limbs slipping and flailing, but Oikawa was right there, strong, steady, balanced. “I’ve got you, Iwachan,” he assured, other arm coming up to brace Iwaizumi and help him balance.

To Iwaizumi’s complete and utter amazement, it worked, and he didn’t know how, but suddenly he was up on both legs. Standing. Not flat on his ass.

Oikawa smiled in approval when Iwaizumi looked up at him, astonishment sparkling in the latter’s eyes. “Okay, now—“ 

Oikawa explained to Iwaizumi how to move without falling, putting it in terms the other could understand. 

“Think you’re ready to try?”

Iwaizumi nodded to say yes, but the rest of his body and self-preservation were saying no. Oikawa’s lips quirked up in knowing but didn’t say anything, taking a small step back, still holding onto Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi took a tentative step forward after him, a little wobbly but remaining upright with help from Oikawa’s firm grip. Oikawa led Iwaizumi as he repeated the process, guiding Iwaizumi along until they were gliding across the ice. Before Iwaizumi knew it, they had made it full circle around the rink.

“Do you want to go do another lap or try by yourself, now?” Oikawa offered as they returned to their starting position. He was secretly hoping the former, just so he could hold Iwaizumi’s hands a little longer.

To his delight, Iwaizumi answered, “Another lap.” And whether it was because he actually felt like he needed another lap, or because he wanted to hold Oikawa’s hands a little longer too would be for him to know. And maybe it was a little bit of both.

But it didn’t matter, because Oikawa was smiling and nodding his assent before he was expertly leading them around the perimeter of the ice once again. It didn’t escape Iwaizumi that the other was skating backwards, and if he wasn’t so focused on not falling on his ass, he would be taking the time to properly appreciate his skill. 

They did two more laps around before Iwaizumi finally decided he was ready to try on his own. Oikawa slowly let go to allow him to adjust to the lack of support. Iwaizumi wobbled, but eventually he was able to figure out his balance and stand still by himself. Oikawa offered two thumbs up and a smile when Iwaizumi’s eyes flickered to his, whether the seek of approval had been done on purpose or not. It hadn’t, but it filled Iwaizumi with a little more confidence. He took a tentative step.

And immediately landed on his ass. 

Concern flared across Oikawa’s face as he cried out, “Iwachan, are you okay?!” He scrambled over to help Iwaizumi up, having been unable to catch the other thanks to the speed with which he had fallen.

Iwaizumi, instead of answering, remained where he was on the ground, burying his face in his hands and groaning. Just as he figured things would turn out, his body and ego bruised. 

Oikawa bit his lip, trying to keep himself from smiling. He was genuinely concerned for Iwaizumi, but there was no denying the hilarity of someone falling, not to mention it was incredibly adorable how embarrassed he was. He crouched down next to Iwaizumi, poking at his arms. “Iwachan, say something if you’re alive.”

Iwaizumi made an incomprehensible noise but didn’t move his hands away from his face.

“It really wasn’t that bad, Iwachan.”

Iwaizumi still didn’t budge.

“You can’t just stay there, you’re going to be run over.”

“Maybe I’m okay with that.” Iwaizumi’s words were muffled as he remained behind the protection of his hands.

Oikawa tried prying at Iwaizumi’s hands, but the other held on firm. “Iwachan, I want to see your nice face with your entrancing eyes and beautiful smile, not your hands. Though, your hands certainly aren’t hard on the eyes, either.”

“ _Oikawa_ !” Iwaizumi‘s face flamed up once again. “You can’t just say shit like that. Now I’m really not moving.”

Oikawa snickered before he allowed silence to fall between them and wandered into his thoughts, wondering what he could say to get Iwaizumi to come out from his hiding. He stood as skaters skirted around them, Oikawa shielding Iwaizumi from indeed being run over.

After a moment, an idea hit him. “Ah!” Oikawa squatted back down. “Iwachan, if you get up, I’ll give you a kiss.” He grinned as Iwaizumi’s face peaked out from beneath his hands. “On the lips.”

Iwaizumi’s face was mostly revealed now. He stared up at Oikawa contemplatively. Oikawa stared back, patient and encouraging. The other looked away as an idea came to him, and Oikawa waited, watching as his hesitation slowly became more convinced. Iwaizumi looked back to him, asking in a small, shy voice, “Can we hold hands?”

Oikawa beamed and offered out a hand. “Well, if Iwachan thinks he might be in danger of falling again, I think that would be a safe idea.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be able to skate on my own. Best to have someone to hold onto,” Iwaizumi agreed, clasping Oikawa’s hand in his own.

Oikawa hauled Iwaizumi back onto his feet, heart fluttering in his chest. The other fell against him but quickly righted himself. Once he was steady, Oikawa began leading them around the rink again, and, feeling bold, intertwined their fingers. They fit nicely together, and warm blushes sat high on both of their cheeks at Oikawa’s action, though neither pulled away. 

“Iwachan is really pretty when he blushes,” Oikawa commented in attempt to block out the pounding of his own heart. To his eternal amusement and endearment, Iwaizumi’s cheeks reddened. 

“Don’t you owe me a kiss? Would that get you to shut up?” Iwaizumi grumbled, though Oikawa knew his grumpiness stemmed from embarrassment. 

“Maybe you should find out,” Oikawa teased, grinning impishly at Iwaizumi. 

“What happened to the shy Oikawa from the day he asked me out? I don’t think I can handle bold Oikawa.”

“Shy Oikawa got over his fears and accomplished getting a date with the cutest, hottest, nicest, sexiest—“

“Oikawa, if you don’t shut up—“

“—guy he’s ever seen or met, so now bold Oikawa gets to do whatever he wants, because said guy he wants to take on more dates and whose heart he wants to win over is adorably and easily embarrassed and maybe I like to see his cute, happy, blushing smile.”

Iwaizumi felt like he was going to combust if Oikawa kept praising him like this. His heart couldn’t handle this. Speaking of his heart, “What if you’re already starting to win over my heart?”

It was Oikawa’s turn to be speechless, blinking in surprise. He gaped at Iwaizumi, who smiled faintly up at him. He felt heat rush to his cheeks, because really, Iwaizumi’s smile was so incredibly precious and he can’t just say stuff like that! “Not fair, Iwachan. You’re not allowed to be so cute.”

“But you are?”

“Are you calling me cute?”

“Maybe.”

“Iwachan!”

Iwaizumi only grinned wider, and once again Oikawa was overcome with the desire to kiss him. Maybe smother him in them. Iwaizumi, while not a mind reader, could feel the weight of Oikawa’s focused and interested gaze, bashfully avoiding eye contact. Oikawa too fell silent, deciding to simply admire the way the redness of Iwaizumi’s cheeks and ears looked so nice against the tan of his skin, and paired with his dazzling smile, made him seem to glow. The sight of him was absolutely breathtaking to Oikawa, and he could honestly stare at him all day. Maybe one of these days, when they became boyfriends and had the luxury to just simply sit and enjoy each other’s company, he would spend the time doing just that. Admiring how pleasing Iwaizumi was to the eye.

Over behind the barrier, tucked safely and hidden into the corner, Matsukawa and Hanamaki watched as Oikawa and Iwaizumi made slow laps around the rink, absolutely lost in each other and completely oblivious to the outside world. The latter couple’s hands remained connected, and the content rouge to their cheeks never left, looking for all the world like the most cliche, sappy and romantic couple in existence.

“They’re so gay,” Matsukawa said, shaking his head.

“It’s absolutely disgusting,” Hanamaki agreed. “How long before you think they find us?”

“If we leave at the right time, never. Look at how whipped they are. Completely clueless.”

“We came to spy on their date, but at this point I think I’ll get a cavity from how sweet this is. Or multiple.”

“And yet we can’t look away.”

“And yet indeed.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa remained, alternating between clowning their friends for being so cheesy to being genuinely happy for them, glad they found someone to match so well with. They watched as Oikawa and Iwaizumi skated in tandem with one another, in a kind of sync even professional pairs could only ever dream of achieving. There were moments of squabbling, moments of appreciative silence, and then moments of conversation that while neither Matsukawa nor Hanamaki could hear, they could tell their friends were clicking well, given away by the cheerful laughter and bright smiles. 

The two eventually grew bored and decided to leave, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi remained none the wiser that their friends had even been there in the first place.

After a few hours of skating, Iwaizumi and Oikawa decided to stop by Seijoh for some coffee to warm them up, though the joy from their successful date was doing a pretty good job of keeping them warm already. They talked for a while more, laughing and exchanging conversation like it was second nature.

When it was time for them to go their separate ways, Oikawa leaned down and pecked Iwaizumi sweetly on the cheek. “Thanks for today, Iwachan, I had lots of fun.”

Iwaizumi frowned at him, fingers ghosting along where Oikawa‘s lips had just been, so close yet so far from his own. “I thought you were going to give me a kiss on the lips.”

Oikawa winked with a secretive grin. “I never said when, did I? What do you say to another date? Maybe then you’ll get your kiss.”

Iwaizumi smiled back, already excited at the prospect of doing this again. “I think I’d like that.”

* * *

“Iwachan,” Oikawa sang as he entered Seijoh cafe, his favorite bell jingling as the door opened and closed behind him.

Iwaizumi looked up from his place at the counter, smiling broadly at the sight of the other. “Hey, Oikawa. What can I get for you today?”

Oikawa quickly perused the menu as he neared, easily spotting both a drink and snack. “Mm white chocolate mocha latte, milk bread, and...” Oikawa leaned over the counter, tapping on his lips. “A kiss from my darling boyfriend, please.” 

Iwaizumi laughed, leaning over and pecking Oikawa’s lips with his own, earning a delighted grin that crinkled Oikawa’s eyes and fluttered Iwaizumi’s heart. A month into their relationship and he still would never get over the brilliance of Oikawa’s smile. 

“Yo, get a room,” Matsukawa called from where he was currently taking a break on one of the booth seats, Hanamaki perched in his lap. 

“Yeah, don’t you two know what public decency is?” Hanamaki egged on.

Oikawa turned, giving his friends a pointed once over. “Do  _you_ know what hypocrisy is? I haven’t seen Iwachan all day! I missed him.”

“You see him every day.”

“And he makes you milk bread now, every day.” 

“And don’t you two sleep over like every other day?”

“And text all day too.”

“And call.”

“Yeah, you two are pretty gross.”

“Hey! Why are you attacking us all of a sudden?!” Oikawa squawked indignantly. “You two aren’t any better! Look at you, right now, PDA all over!”

“I don’t see your issue, I am simply sitting in a very comfortable and very soft seat,” Hanamaki stated matter-of-factly. He smirked provocatively. “Too bad you can’t sit on your boyfriend’s lap.”

“I don’t need this slander,” Oikawa sniffed. “Haji, we should ditch these losers.”

“I still have work, ‘kawa,” Iwaizumi quipped from where he was currently preparing Oikawa’s drink.

“Oh and the nicknames,” Hanamaki shook his head.

“You, I don’t want to hear it from you ‘ _Hiro_ ,” Oikawa accused, emphasizing the nickname Matsukawa used for him. He graciously accepted Iwaizumi’s milk bread when it was offered, taking an aggressively big bite. Just like every other time, he let out an approving moan. “Mmm, just perfect Iwachan.”

Iwaizumi also would never get used to _that_ positive reaction to his baking, cheeks aflame as he griped, “You can’t just do that every time.”

Oikawa turned, raising inquisitive brows. “Iwachan, you should be used to it. How often have you heard me moan for you now?”

Iwaizumi’s entire face, ears, and neck all turned a comical shade of red. “Oikawa!”

“Red card!” Hanamaki and Matsukawa both called. “Public indecency!”

“ _You’re_ public indecency!” Oikawa sassed.

“And _you’re_ going to be the death of me,” Iwaizumi said as he finished off Oikawa’s drink and held it out for his boyfriend. “Here.”

“Ooh!” Offense momentarily forgotten, Oikawa snatched up the drink. He lifted it up to take a sip despite Iwaizumi giving him The Look that warned not to, but paused upon noticing writing on the side. Iwaizumi never wrote his name on the cups because he never needed to, so curiously, Oikawa turned his coffee to read. And there, in blue sharpie, was written “Cutiekawa”.

Oikawa’s brain shut down for a good ten seconds. He was used to various descriptors added to his name to make nicknames, but most of them were endearing insults like “kusokawa” or even “shittykawa” because Iwaizumi hid his affection in roughness like that, but never before had he called him  _cutie_ . And then it was his turn to transform into a tomato. “Iwachan! What’s the meaning of this!” His voice was high and flustered, but even so, a smile was blooming across his face.

Iwaizumi shrugged, proud smile on his face. “Just what it says. You’re a cutie, ‘kawa.”

Oikawa proceeded to melt into the counter, bemoaning that his Iwachan was too precious. Iwaizumi grinned, running his fingers through the soft waves of Oikawa’s hair. Oikawa definitely flustered Iwaizumi more than the other way around, so it was nice when Iwaizumi could fluster him back. And pretty funny too, because Oikawa completely shut down, possibly legitimately combusting internally. It was cute.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa just shook their heads at their friends, sighing in exasperation. “Whipped idiots, the both of them.”

**Author's Note:**

> ehehe did you catch my little easter egg?


End file.
